Mr. Predictable: Mr. Predictable / Too Many Cooks
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Secondly, who did that thirty-year-old bombshell think she was? A wanna-be psychologist? The next Dr. Freud? The way Jake saw it, Moriah was only colorful, attractive scenery at this haunt in the woods. For sure, she hadn’t been able to pry useful information from him during their road trip. He hadn’t told her a damn thing she could use to pick him apart and readjust his lifestyle—and that’s the way it would stay.
Having finished the delicious meal, Jake opened his suitcase to see what his sisters had packed for him. Sure enough, there was an array of chambray shirts in muted colors, plus several pairs of prewashed jeans, shorts and T-shirts. Jake’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets when he noticed the new string bikini briefs—in assorted bold colors and wild prints—that his ornery sisters had purchased for him. Hell! He favored the garden variety of white cotton underwear, not these skimpy scraps of fabric. The prospect of his kid sisters buying him this racy underwear made him cringe. Jeez!
Muttering and snarling in frustration, Jake shed his suit and donned a T-shirt, shorts and running shoes. He had no problem with casual clothes—the bikini briefs he wasn’t so sure about—but he wasn’t going to tramp over to the lodge to watch a flick with the old fogies from the other cabins. Furthermore, he was in no mood to see Moriah again. He was keeping his distance from the walking American flag. He wasn’t sure why he felt it imperative to avoid her as much as possible, but some inner voice—Good gad! He was starting to sound like her already—kept warning him to watch his step with her. He was too reactionary around her.
Besides that, he didn’t like blue-eyed blondes on general principle. His two-timing ex-fiancée was a blue-eyed blonde, so that was one strike against Moriah. Then there was the fact that Moriah dressed too outrageously for Jake’s sedate tastes. He preferred subtle and subdued. Moriah Randell was one of those here-I-come-ready-or-not, in-your-face kind of females. Plus, she was nagging him to get in touch with his inner self—whatever good that was supposed to do. She wanted him to change his perfected routine and develop a carefree approach to life.
Bull! It was all a bunch of bull!
“Ain’t happenin’,” Jake told himself resolutely. He may be stuck here for two hellish weeks—an eternity as far as he was concerned—rather than two days, but nobody was messing with his attitude. It worked for him and he wasn’t changing his ways at this late date.
When his parents died he’d moved back home to give Kim and Lisa the extra attention, security, guidance and support that a fourteen-year-old and sixteen-year-old needed at such a crucial time. He’d made a solemn commitment to his family and he’d stuck to it for ten years. It had cost him a fiancée and a social life. Hell, you couldn’t bring home a babe and fool around when you had two impressionable teenage sisters underfoot who were trying to cope with a devastating loss, could you? How insensitive would that have been?
Oh sure, Jake had promised himself that once he raised his kid sisters he’d let loose and enjoy himself for a couple of years. But working and riding herd over his sisters had become such an ingrained habit that he never got around to breaking it.
Jake had occupied his time and mind by getting his graphic design shop up and running. He’d had more clients than he knew what to do with before he knew it. So what was wrong with that? He’d taken on the responsibility of his sisters and become financially and professionally successful. Was that a crime? Around Triple R it was, apparently, he mused as he shoved his foot into the sneakers his sisters packed for him. If Moriah had her way, Jake would be strolling around the wooded hills, picking wildflowers and meditating. Not very damn likely!
Yeah, okay, so maybe he was transferring his frustration about the situation, and this feeling of betrayal to Moriah, when it rightfully should be vented on his sisters. But his sisters weren’t within earshot—and he couldn’t get his mitts on a damn phone to chew them down one side and up the other!
It was better this way, Jake convinced himself. Directing his irritation at Moriah was the safe thing to do. Fact was that, despite her vivid blue eyes and thick blond hair, despite her shockingly loud clothes and those aggravating smiles that nothing he said could affect, he was a teensy-weensy bit attracted to her.
A reluctant smile pursed his lips, remembering how her cheery smile had faltered when he kept yammering on and on about using sex, sex and more sex as a remedy to reduce stress. He’d rattled her, he knew. It was the most fun he’d had all day. Maybe all week…all month…aw, hell!
The disturbing thought that enjoyment wasn’t an integral part of his everyday life put Jake on his feet and had him moving toward the cabin door. “C’mon, Spitwad,” he commanded as he strode onto the porch. “Time to go jogging. And you better keep up or I’ll leave you out in the woods to find your way home. Or get eaten by a bear—whichever.”
The mutt stared at him, then glanced at the half-eaten chunk of meat between his front paws.
“If I’ve gotta hang out here in the boonies, then you’ve gotta hang out with me, Fuzzball,” Jake told the mutt. “Get off your lazy butt and let’s go.”
The pup defied him and went back to gnawing on the meat.
Jake stamped over to snatch the food away, tucked it in a napkin and then crammed it into his shirt pocket. Left with nothing else to do, the pup followed at Jake’s heels.
Left with nothing else to do, Jake thought as he jogged along the footpath that wound through the hills. Boy, if that didn’t just about say it all!
MORIAH HAD JUST returned to the lobby after chatting with the guest in cabin number three, when a baritone roar gushed through the open window. She had a pretty good idea who let out that booming shout. She made a beeline for cabin number seven.
Before she got within a hundred yards of the cabin the offensive smell of skunk closed in around her. Moriah covered the lower portion of her face with her hand, then glanced this way and that.
“Jake?” she called to the darkness at large.
“Over here, damn it to hell!” he bellowed like an outraged moose.
Moriah veered toward the hiking path, relying on the golden shaft of light that streamed through the cabin windows. She heard the pup’s abrupt yip and Jake’s muttered growl.
“C’mere, you idiotic mutt!” he snarled.
The bushes shook, then Jake, clutching the little pooch like a football, came into view. Moriah reflexively stepped back several paces when the foul odor grew more potent.
“What happened?” she asked without daring to take a breath.
“Spitwad thinks he’s a damn bloodhound,” Jake muttered irritably. “He flushed out a damn skunk and we both suffered a direct hit. You’ll have to go into my cabin and fetch some clean clothes for me.”
It wasn’t a request, she noted. It was a direct order. She suspected Jake was accustomed to barking orders, which was probably why he balked and brooded after being forced to do as he was told at the resort.
“There’s no way that I’m going to enter my cabin in these smelly clothes,” he grumbled. “The whole place will stink to high heaven. I’ll have to bathe in the river first.”
“I’ll be right back with clean clothes,” she said as she whipped around and sprinted to the cabin.
Hurriedly, Moriah grabbed a blasé-brown shirt and blue jeans. She rifled through the luggage to locate underwear. Her sense of urgency screeched to a halt when she spotted the sexy bikini briefs. Moriah snickered right out loud, envisioning Jake prancing around in this leopard-print underwear—and nothing else….
Moriah quashed the tantalizing vision and stifled the alarming thought immediately. It shocked her to no end that she could so easily imagine what Jake would look like in this leopard-print garment. It also unsettled her to the extreme to realize that the initial attraction she’d felt—and tried to suppress—had come through for the second time today. Well, okay, she corrected grudgingly, for the fourth or fifth time today.
Of course, nothing would come of this flare-up of physical awareness, she reminded herself. She had no intention of getting personally involved with any of her guests. Most of the businessmen—and the occasional female executive—who came to her resort were in their sixties, so the problem hadn’t actually arisen.
And then along came Jake, she mused as she headed toward the door, with his jeans and shirt tucked under her arm and those skimpy leopard-print briefs hooked over her index finger.
Okay, Moriah, she told herself on her way across the front porch, you aren’t going to get involved with Jake for several reasons. Number one: it goes against your personal rules and regulations. Number two: Jake is an intense workaholic, who’s allergic to the concept of free time, and you advocate a carefree lifestyle. The list went on, but Moriah wasn’t one for making lists. That was probably one of Jake’s habits.
She and Jake viewed life from entirely opposite perspectives. No, she wouldn’t become romantically involved with Jake because she’d learned the hard way that she wasn’t good at relationships unless they were built on the need and dependence of the other party—like recreational director to guest, or daughter to ailing mother or father. She had accepted the fact that love was not going to play a dominant role in her life and that she could make her contribution to humanity by providing recreational activities and hobbies for her stressed-out guests.
However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with the blustering Jake Prescott, she decided as she twirled his bikini briefs around her forefinger. The man needed to lighten up and learn to laugh and smile occasionally. Moriah made a pact with herself, there and then, to ensure Jake did exactly that!
3
JAKE INWARDLY GROANED when Moriah sashayed toward him, twirling the ridiculous underwear around her finger and grinning mischievously. He also noticed Moriah had a naturally provocative saunter when she let her guard down. “That happens to be my sisters’ idea of a joke,” he was quick to inform her.
Moriah halted a safe distance away. Not that he blamed her. The stench surrounding him had to be mega-offensive. Of course, Jake’s olfactory senses were in traumatic shock, so he couldn’t smell much of anything at the moment.
“You realize, I’m sure,” she said with an entirely different kind of smile than he was used to getting from her, “that knowing you wear leopard-print bikinis will make it difficult for me to take all your snarling and growling seriously from here on out, don’t you?”
“I wasn’t aware that you were taking me seriously before,” Jake murmured distractedly. He stood there, studying Moriah’s enticing profile, which was enhanced by the backwash of light streaming from his cabin windows. He wasn’t sure at what precise moment he became intently aware of Moriah—probably the first time he piled into the vehicle with her—but he could easily detect the difference between her neutral smile and the impish grin she was wearing now. He wasn’t sure what this new smile meant, but it was doing crazy things to his pulse.
Jake stiffened—especially in places that had no business whatsoever getting stiff—and battled his attraction to Moriah. “If you’ll leave my clothes draped over a bush near the river I won’t have to touch them until I rid myself of this offensive smell.”
“Sure, be glad to,” she said, still twirling his undies and grinning devilishly. “I’ll show you the best place to bathe without worrying about stepping into an unseen hole and going under.”
With Spitwad tucked securely under his arm, Jake followed a safe distance behind Moriah. He didn’t know why he was being courteous. He shouldn’t be. He should share this stench with her, just for spite.
“I’m not going to have to fight off alligators and snakes in here, am I? The skunk was enough excitement for one night.”
“No, you should be relatively safe. Here you go, Jake.” She gestured to the narrow footpath that led to the sandy bank. “Soak to your heart’s content.”
Jake squatted down to remove his sneakers, then walked into the river. Although the October evening was unseasonably warm, the cool water gave him the shivers and made Spitwad squirm for release, but Jake submerged the mutt, nonetheless. When he resurfaced, he released the pooch to paddle around in circles.
“Toss me your stinky clothes and I’ll launder them for you,” Moriah offered. “I have a surefire product that will eliminate the stench.”
Jake peeled off his socks and shirt, then hurled them toward a bushy shrub.
“Now take off your pants,” she said, snickering.
“This is not amusing,” Jake muttered as he shed his shorts and briefs.
“From my standpoint it is,” she replied as she set aside his clean clothes. “I don’t usually chitchat with naked guests, but I’m making the exception with you. This is the perfect chance for you to try deep breathing. Fill your lungs, and then let your breath out slowly and try to relax.”
Jake glowered at her as she perched on a boulder near the river. “And if I refuse to cooperate?” he challenged.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Then I take your clean clothes, your dirty clothes, your cabin key and leave you to prance around naked. Now breathe, Jake.”
Begrudgingly, he breathed in the evening air and slowly exhaled. “There. Finished. Breathing exercises over. Go away, Mo.”
She shook her head. Her golden hair glowed like a halo in the moonlight. Jake wondered how that thick mane would look if she set it free to flow over her shoulders and down her back. Damn but she was a pretty woman. He wished he hadn’t noticed. Good thing he was waist deep in cold water. Otherwise, he might embarrass himself.
“I’m not going anywhere until we’ve spent quality time together,” Moriah insisted. “Take another deep breath.”
Muttering, Jake did as he was told. He scooped up the mutt to give the soggy animal a rest after swimming circular laps.
“The problem with developing a structured routine is that we don’t take time off to enjoy life’s simple pleasures,” she commented. “We have to be impulsive occasionally. We have to figure out what makes us happy and reward ourselves with enjoyable pursuits. What makes you happy, Jake?”
He thought about that for a moment. To his dismay, he couldn’t think of anything other than checking on his sisters. Good gad!
“Difficult question?” she asked gently. “Obviously it’s been too long since you really let loose to remember what you like to do for leisure and entertainment.”
“No, it hasn’t,” he said defensively. “I told you I like sex, plenty of sex with a disgustingly large number of different women to appease my obsessive penchant for variety and change of pace. I’m a card-carrying sexaholic.”
“You might as well know your sisters already informed me that your only dates are the ones they manipulate you into taking out.”
“And they’ll pay dearly for talking out of school,” he said, and scowled.
“Kim and Lisa want to help you. I want to help you find yourself.”
“I’m not lost. I know exactly where the hell I am and you can help most by leaving,” he snapped. “The water is cold and I’d like to get out!”
“I’ll leave when you admit to me, and to yourself, that it’s time to change your predictable, monotonous lifestyle and open your mind to developing a few hobbies.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I need a hobby. Are you happy now?”
“No, because you’re patronizing me.”
Jake sighed irritably. He was cold, tired and in no mood for this compulsory stress-reducing session. “Is this the way you impose your carefree philosophy on your guests? You drive them into the river and baptize them with your devil-may-care theories?”
“I advocate living life to its fullest, most promising potential. It’s not the same as devil-may-care,” she corrected pleasantly. “Most of my guests have acknowledged their problem before they arrive. You, however, require more drastic measures to open your eyes and see the light…. I’ll be around in the morning to take you horseback riding.”
“What time?” he asked.
She grinned. “We try to avoid schedules because we’re here to break routines. We’ll be getting together at various times of the day.”
Well, so much for accusing her of establishing a routine, he mused sourly.
“I’ll be back later with a glass of warm milk before bedtime,” she said, rising gracefully to her feet.
“I don’t drink milk, warm or otherwise,” he muttered stubbornly.
“Would you prefer a small glass of wine instead?”
“What I would prefer,” he said through chattering teeth, “is to get the hell out of the river and go home where I belong!”
Moriah strolled down the riverbank to face him directly. Her perpetual smile vanished, he noted. She stood with feet askance, arms crossed over her chest. Her stance indicated that she meant business. “You aren’t going anywhere until I find a way to push your fun button.”
“I don’t have a fun button,” he retorted.
“Oh, yes, you do. I’m making it my mission in life to find it and to push it—hard and often,” she said very determinedly. “We’re going to find something here at the resort that you like to do and you’re going to do it—cheerfully!”
“Cheerfully choking you has exceptional appeal,” he couldn’t resist saying.
“Well, at least there’s something that makes you happy. That’s a good place to start.” She plucked up his soggy clothes. “Later, Jake.”
When she walked away, Jake headed for shore, trying to ignore the nip of his conscience. He was being extraordinarily hard on Moriah, he knew, but it felt necessary for some reason. Something about that woman put him on the defensive and kept him there. He didn’t want to like her…but he did. He didn’t want to be attracted to her…but he was.
Certainly, nothing could come of his interest because it was a dead-end street. He had his responsibilities and she obviously had hers. Whatever he was feeling—and he sure as hell wasn’t going to examine it too closely—was just physical. He’d done without sex longer than he cared to admit and Moriah sparked awareness in him, was all. All his yammering about sex had simply brought it to his attention and escalated his awareness.
Jake shrugged on his clothes and walked barefoot up the sandy path. “C’mon, Spitwad. We’ve had enough excitement for the night. Don’t go sniffing out some other varmint.”
The mutt shook himself off, then trotted obediently at Jake’s heels. The instant Jake entered the cabin he headed for the shower and slathered his body with soap. After scrubbing himself squeaky clean, he wrapped a towel around his hips and strode off to retrieve the scandalous briefs his mischievous sisters packed for him.
Jake pulled up short when he saw Moriah hovering beside the door, a short glass of wine in hand and a shocked expression on her face. Her gaze drifted over his bare chest, skidded over the damp towel, then shot upward and a tinge of color blossomed in her cheeks. Well, well, Moriah wasn’t quite as immune to him as he thought she was, he noted.
“Like what you see?” he asked when her gaze made another sweep of his scantily clad body. “Is this one of those Kodak moments? Too bad you didn’t come armed with a camera.”
She jerked upright, then met his amused gaze. “Sorry. I…um…I thought I’d g-given you enough time to shower and dress b-before…um…delivering your wine,” she stammered, her face aflame. “When y-you didn’t…um…answer m-my knock at the door, I…uh…wanted to make sure you hadn’t done yourself bodily harm.”
Clearly, she felt awkward and uncomfortable. Devilishly, he wondered what she’d do if he dropped the towel and reached for those candy-apple red bikini briefs. He really should do it. After all, she’d been nagging him to do something reckless and impulsive, hadn’t she?
“Is there anything else, Mo?” he prompted when she simply stood frozen to the spot, scrutinizing him.
“Er…no…um…I’ll just set your wine on the table and give you some…uh…privacy.” Like a shot, she zipped across the cabin. In her haste to leave the wine and skedaddle, she clanked the bottom of the stemmed goblet against the edge of the table. The goblet cart-wheeled over the back of her hand. Wine splattered on the tiled floor and glass shattered in a gazillion pieces.
“Oh, damn, I’m sorry!” Moriah yelped in dismay.
Amused, Jake watched Moriah hunker down to pick up shards of glass. He noticed her hands shook as she cleaned up her mess. Male pride swelled to gigantic proportions, as he realized that he was having a tremendously unsettling effect on her. Her face was beet-red from the roots of her blond hair to the base of her neck and she was making a big production of not looking in his direction.
When the pup trotted over to slurp up the spilled wine, Moriah shifted sideways to block the dog and accidentally smacked her head on the sharp corner of the table. The blow caused her to teeter off balance. She reached down to brace herself—and embedded slivers of glass in her hand.
“Ouch! Damn it!” She recoiled and blood immediately spread across the heel of her hand.
“Leave the mess. I’ll clean it up,” Jake insisted, as he shooed the mutt out the door. “Come into the bathroom and let me have a look at the damage.”
“I’ll be fine,” she mumbled as she reached up with her good hand to inspect the knot on her hairline. “I’m usually not this clumsy.”
“Oh? What do you suppose caused it tonight?” he couldn’t resist teasing her.
“If you had any decency you’d put your pants on,” she muttered at him.
His brows furrowed in feigned confusion. “Not twenty minutes ago you ordered me to drop my drawers. Now you want me to put them on. Which is it, Mo?” he razzed her unmercifully.
She flashed him a fulminating glance. “I better leave before—”
Watching where he stepped, Jake grabbed the back of her shirt and hoisted her to her feet. Despite her objection, he shepherded her into the bathroom.
“Let’s see how deep the cuts are,” he said as he turned on the faucet and then shoved her right hand beneath the stream.
“I-It’s f-fine. I—I’m okay,” she stuttered.
“Now who’s in a state of denial?” he asked as he glanced sideways to see her gaze focused on the light furring of hair on his chest and belly. He really had her discombobulated and he was loving every minute of it.
Moriah inhaled a deep, cathartic breath, then exhaled. Jake noted she practiced what she preached when she found herself tensed up. And she was definitely tense. Why do you suppose that was? he thought wickedly.
“I…uh…don’t think I’ll bleed to death before I reach my apartment,” she chirped, staring down at her injured hand—anywhere but at him.
“Well, I’m not taking any chances,” he said, grinning. “After the fuss I put up about being abducted and held hostage here, I’ll be the prime suspect if you’re found in a pool of blood.”
When he bent forward to examine her hand closely, his bare shoulder grazed her arm. He felt her flinch. “Hurt?” he asked, smothering a snicker.
“Er…no.” Her voice wobbled noticeably.
Jake grinned, enjoying the effect he had on Moriah. He brushed her shoulder again—accidentally on purpose—and felt a tremor run down to her arm to her hand. When he saw her gaze drop, he glanced down to see what had diverted her attention. His bare hip was peeking from the split in the towel. Her face splashed with color as she snapped up her head and met his knowing grin in the mirror. He didn’t think her face could turn redder. Amazingly, amusingly it did. Considering all the blood rushing to her face and ears, he wondered if her head was about to explode.
“Hold still a minute and I’ll dig out the shards with tweezers.” He opened the medicine cabinet to retrieve the tweezers, antiseptic and bandages he’d noticed earlier.
Moriah, who had yet to be at a loss for words, and was usually in complete control of her composure in his presence, just stood there as if she’d been shot with a stun gun. Jake concentrated on removing the slivers of glass, but he recalled what Moriah had said about finding enjoyment. If he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit that verbally sparring with her during their road trip, having her lecture him on breaking old habits while she held him as a captive audience in the river, and watching her get flustered at the sight of him wearing nothing but a towel was the most fun he’d had since he couldn’t remember when. He felt alive, different somehow. He felt more attuned to himself than when he was living his robotlike existence in the city.